


Starting at the End

by dearmrsawyer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Asexual Character, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, like not your Walking Dead level of violence but zombies are gross so, some violence, yknow the descriptions of them are gross lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/pseuds/dearmrsawyer
Summary: Once upon a time, the world had felt so small. So little unoccupied space, such small stretches between the people in Louis’ life. Since everything had changed, since all of this, and with nothing but his legs to get him from one place to another, the world now seemed immeasurably big.





	Starting at the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [achapterends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/achapterends/gifts).



> Thank you to Bel, Carlie, Eva and Steph, all of whom have helped me shape this and ensure it was ready to see the world. 
> 
> To achapterends, i wrote as closely to your prompt as i could and i hope you enjoy the final product.

“Look out!”

Louis turned a beat too late and a sharp impact caught his jaw.

“Hey!” Zayn scrambled to his feet, still a few paces back and too far.

Louis stumbled, vision tipping before he managed to find his footing. He only had a second before rotting hands clawed at his face and chest. The zombie charged, indiscriminately mowing down anything in its path.

In the early days, Louis had barely been able to fight with the smell. It swallowed the air, a mutated form of divine metamorphosis. Now, Louis was so used to it that he heaved it in great breaths, just desperate to keep breathing.

The zombie crashed forward, snarling and howling. Louis grabbed at the shreds of its clothes to push it back. It hurtled headfirst like it couldn’t carry the weight, and Louis craned his neck as far as he could, leaving as much distance between them as his hands could hold. His pistol was so far out of reach he couldn’t even see it.

“Zayn?” he cried, trying to see past dead eyes and shredded lips. His heel snagged on a crack in the asphalt and he slammed back. The zombie dropped down directly on top of him, its knees knocking painfully into his. It was so bony—muscle and fat worn away, nothing but skin and skeleton, yet still so heavy.

“Zayn!”

He was almost chest to chest with it now, nail-less hands tearing at his collar and sliding against skin. Louis closed his eyes, pushing desperately at its dead weight when it was suddenly yanked away.

Louis opened his eyes as Zayn threw the zombie to the ground, pressing a boot to its shoulder as his arm swung down from a great height. There was no warning before Louis felt the splatter.

“Ugh!”

Zayn stepped back as the zombie's head rolled unsteadily away from the rest of the corpse. “Alright?”

“What do you think,” Louis grunted, head dropping back as he caught his breath.

He blinked up at the sky, so clear, not at all a reflection of the world down here.

Zayn wiped his blade against his jeans, creating a dark smear at his hip. It was gross, but in the long run it helped. It was one of the few shields against a zombie’s diligent sense of smell. He offered Louis a hand and pulled him halfway up before letting go, leaving Louis to stagger and straighten on his own.

“You enjoying yourself?” he scoffed, running his hands up and down the length of his own arms to make sure he was in the clear.

Zayn smirked, sheathing the blade. “Told you it’d come in handy. No bites?”

Louis deemed himself in the clear. “No bites. And God forbid the world hadn’t gone to hell and you’d never got a chance to use your samurai sword.”

“You know it’s a _talwar_. And didn’t I say when I got it you can’t predict what’s gonna happen in the future? You just gotta be ready.”

“As if you buying a _talwar_ was anything more than a way to dress up your shelf.”

Zayn planted his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed in accusation. “Did I or did I not just save your life?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll owe you the rest of it.”

“That might not mean much.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Zayn resumed his stroll up the vast, rustic road they’d been travelling for two days. Grass grew over the edges of the asphalt, the white divider so chipped and faded it looked like it had always been a broken line. Most of the signage they’d passed had been worn by the sun or destroyed in some way, ripped down or defaced with nihilistic messages. The one pointing towards this road had read ‘reality bites’ beneath a bold white arrow.

The straps of Louis’ rucksack cut into his shoulders through his thinning jacket. He tucked his thumbs beneath them, but even they began to ache eventually.

He quickened his pace until he was at Zayn’s side. “Hey, you got any room in your pack?”

“We split everything equal between us this morning, don’t think you’re gonna shift your load onto me.” Zayn’s lips tilted up on one side even as he kept walking.

“Your jacket’s tougher, the leather protects your shoulders.”

“Got a defence for everything, don’t you?”

“Because everything I say is right, or at least reasonable.”

Zayn did not offer the remaining space in his pack, and Louis thought it was only fair that as penance Zayn should hear about his discontent as they continued on into the silent, lifeless countryside. They passed overgrown fields with brambles spilling out of splintered fences. Hills rose beyond them, disparately picturesque against the gruesome foreground of real life.

Sometimes it felt like they hadn’t seen another human being for weeks. In fact, they’d often go days without seeing another living thing. Unfortunately, the reprieve from seeing things that were less-than-alive didn’t usually last quite so long.

The world had also become frighteningly quiet. Louis could barely remember the hum of everyday life—and life was noisy. There were no cars, no people filling streets and spaces—not even the static buzz of power travelling in the lines above empty roads to prove that life existed somewhere at the other end. In the early days, noise had been a comfort. Now, it was a reason to hide.

Louis eyed Zayn as they walked. The blackened smears along the narrow width of his hip. His gait, stronger than it once was, practiced and paced for endurance. The sleek shine of his hair, gone so many days without a proper wash that it had reached equilibrium. It was still thick, glossy with natural oils, and brushing against the feathery tip of his fantail tattoo. Louis used to crack jokes about their increasingly unkempt state, but walking day in, day out took its toll. Much to his own disdain, he just didn’t have the energy for it most of the time.

***

Once upon a time, the world had felt so small. So little unoccupied space, such small stretches between the people in Louis’ life. Since everything had changed, since all of this, and with nothing but his legs to get him from one place to another, the world now seemed immeasurably big.

The ache in Louis’ soles were proof enough.

The sky had drained of colour, leaving an ever-dimming grey that washed out everything around them. Even Zayn had become monochromatic.

“Come on.” He nodded his head toward a small structure on the side of the road, almost indistinguishable from the darkening world around it. It was a bus shelter, four measly slats of steel cobbled together and barely able to keep the rain off.

“What do you expect this to achieve?” Louis’ feet slapped heavily, quickly losing steam now that they were so close to stopping.

“It’ll give us a good vantage point?”

“There’s no way that holds up underneath us.”

Zayn ignored him, pushing at the side of the shelter with some force. It creaked but held its own, so Zayn wrapped a hand around one of the upper rods supporting the backboard, stepping onto one of the lower rods. Louis stepped back to stay clear of any resulting debris.

Zayn managed to get himself onto the roof, kneeling precariously lest the whole thing come crashing down beneath him. He balanced for a few seconds, shouldering off his pack, then crawled around to face Louis.

“You sure about this?” He grabbed one of the rods uncertainly, reaching for Zayn’s hand with the other. He felt more uneasy about this than the attack they’d fought off earlier, but Zayn was already digging around for dinner.

They split a can of corn and took turns swiping their fingers through the dregs of sweet water before Louis unfolded the blanket tucked into his pack. It was so worn the fibres were almost transparent in daylight, but it helped. They laid it flat against the sun-warmed steel, crowding atop it. Zayn draped it up around himself and over the top of them. Louis felt a chilly line down the length of his spine where the blanket didn’t quite reach, but Zayn’s hands looped around to make up some of the difference. It was enough.

“Shift a bit, got a bolt in my ribs,” Louis mumbled, wiggling closer to Zayn, who backed up. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was better, and now that he was still, the fatigue of walking all day was quickly catching up.

Zayn’s breath washed warm over his face, his forehead brushing Louis’ temple. Louis tipped his head up until Zayn was close enough to slip out of focus, and their noses slotted neatly together just before their lips. It was a soft, tired kiss, just slow presses interrupted by the need to breathe. Louis tucked one hand around Zayn’s waist and the other skimmed the fraying ribbed collar of his tee.

“Okay?” Zayn breathed between Louis’ lips. Louis hummed agreeably, mouth twisting in a grateful grin.

Amongst so much else, losing the world as it once was had left Louis eager for the security of intimacy. There had always been a line he’d been unwilling to cross, but everything before that line had become that much more necessary.

Zayn, who had one night admitted his same desire for closeness in the loft of an old and empty barn, had been unwilling at first, unsure of how to know when he’d find the line. Louis had guided his tentative hands for the first couple of months, and Zayn had studiously learned the scope of his boundaries until he knew them by heart. In time, he became well-practised in reading the energy of Louis’ body, and found his own comfort in comforting Louis. Louis gave what he could, and Zayn offered it back, and it was enough. It was plenty.

Tonight it only lasted a minute at most, the both of them too tired to hold up their own heads. As the day dropped into night, so did they drop into sleep.

***

Louis was pulled into consciousness suddenly, his body jerking enough to rock Zayn awake as well. He never would’ve thought himself capable of shifting from asleep to alert so quickly years ago, but it had quickly become a survival instinct. Every muscle in his body went taut at the approach of a familiar sound.

The thing about zombies was that they were _loud_ —they were one of the few loud things left. Everything about them was an announcement.

Louis could hear a group of them below. He felt Zayn’s arms squeeze around him briefly before pulling back, and when their eyes met Zayn had a finger pressed to his lips.

As silently as he could, Zayn shuffled up to the edge of the roof, peering over. He showed Louis three fingers before quickly wriggling back. They curled up as low as possible, eyes laser-focused on each other, just praying they would pass on by.

Time seemed to make a mockery of them, creeping by as slowly as it could manage. Louis’ arms began to cramp with his tight he was holding them against his chest, heart pounding at a dangerously fast rhythm. It didn’t matter how many times they found themselves here in this same position, it never got easier. Louis dug his bitten-down nails into his palms, listening for any sign that the zombies were moving on.

To his dismay, the only seemed to be getting louder. Closer.

He chanced another look at Zayn, who had gone pale. Louis followed his eyes; he was looking at Louis’ ankle.

Heart pounding, Louis noticed a scratch running up beneath the hem of his own jeans, the bloody end just visible at his ankle. He brushed his fingers over it, his mind moving in fast forward for a possible solution. But it was too late; the blood had already seeped into his sock and stained his jeans. They’d been visible even before they’d even woken up.

Zayn’s lips formed a curse and he stretched to take another peek over the edge of the shelter. Louis stayed completely still, eyes set on the back of Zayn’s head. He could tell the zombies were close now—he could smell them, that familiar rot that covered the world. It was so regular that he had this sick sense of normality whenever he smelt it.

It was a horrible thing, to consider this normal.

There was an alarming thud and the shelter shuddered briefly. The bottom dropped out of Louis stomach as he and Zayn scrambled to their knees.

“Louis,” Zayn whispered, a hand flying to the hilt of his _talwar_. Louis reached for his pistol, finally looking down.

All three of them were at the base of the shelter, hands grasping ineffectually at the walls. They were slow, starving, but Louis saw one of them take a hold of the rod he’d used to climb up earlier. Their time was limited.

“You ready?” Zayn said, crouched and clearly ready. Louis cocked his pistol and nodded, taking aim.

He got a clear shot through the first zombie’s head, and it dropped. The other two roared when their eyes locked on him. One of them was missing an arm and an eye, what was left of it black and bloodied. The other’s throat had been ripped clean open, exposing its voice box. It had a sturdy hold of one of the rods and Louis shot at it, tearing a tidy whole through its cheek. It reached for the rod with its other hand.  Zayn swore and leapt from the roof.

“Zayn!”

He swung his blade at the zombie’s legs and it buckled, crumbling down the back of the shelter. Before he could swing again the one-armed zombie crashed into him, knocking him to the ground.

Louis leapt down after him, firing off a shot that struck straight through the back of the one-armed zombie’s head. Its head snapped up before it bodily dropped, giving Zayn a chance to scramble to his feet.

“You good?” Louis asked.

“Good,” Zayn panted, and struck at the outstretched hand of the remaining zombie. It groaned, a guttural, wet sound that made Louis want to wretch. He got close enough to fire one last shot, darkening the road beneath them.

Zayn sighed, tipping his head up to where the sun hung low over the hilly skyline. Louis crouched, rubbing residual sleep from his eyes. They’d only been awake a few minutes. It felt so unbalanced—such a frantic start, likely to be followed by hours of slow, steady walking. He didn’t say this out loud, knowing Zayn would tell him they should be so lucky as to have a day of slow, steady walking.

Instead, he climbed back up the shelter so he could retrieve their packs, carrying them far enough that his nose was no longer burning from the acrid smell of rot. He dropped into the soft, reedy grass by the road and Zayn landed beside him, accepting the canteen from Louis.

“Gonna need to take care of that before it almost gets us killed again,” Zayn said, not unkindly, looking at Louis’ leg.

Louis rummaged around for any remaining first aid supplies. He found a measly scrap of gauze, enough to cover the palm of his hand. There was only a mouthful at most swirling at the bottom of their canteen.

“Not sure we can.”

Zayn was quiet. His face was tight, suggesting he was more worried than he’d care to admit. Eventually he said, “Gotta top up our packs.”

Louis decided not to draw attention to the dip in Zayn’s brow or the jump of his adam’s apple. “So long as you agree to carry it all.”

Louis holstered his gun in the loop of his jeans. It had become a comfort to feel its weight slap lightly against his leg as they walked.

He balled up the blanket and forced it back into his pack, struggling to get it inside because he refused to fold it as Zayn had shown him. By the time he was done Zayn was on his feet and walking. Louis took a few wide strides to catch up, refusing to stoop so low as to jog.

“You’ll be alright with that?” Zayn nodded at his leg.

“Just a scratch. It’s all dried up, I’ll clean it when we get somewhere.”

Zayn didn’t say anything else, but Louis knew he was thinking about the many scratches they’d seen, the way it could devolve so quickly in a world of filth. Louis didn’t want to think about it.

“Is this a good idea?” he asked instead.

“What?”

“Heading the same way those zombies came.”

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Yeah, but.”

“You just wanna go backwards?”

Louis twisted his mouth. “No.” He knew he was arguing merely for the sake of argument, but they did a lot of things just for the sake of it these days.

“It was your idea to go this way.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, but, “You would’ve made the same call.”

Heading north had felt like the logical step when the power and signal went out. All that could connect them to anyone now was their legs.

Louis had lost count of how many months ago that had been. It had been more than a few since they’d been quietly drained of their drive. Neither of them said anything, but Louis could see the same thought in Zayn’s eyes that plagued him each time they took up a new road. Whether there was even still anything waiting for them at the other end.

Now that Louis was aware of it, he could feel the gash down his leg—feel it pull at his jeans, where the blood had dried. Thankfully, he and Zayn had slipped into their rather leisurely pace. It was somewhat at odds with the imminent threat of danger at every turn, but the more time passed, the greater their desensitisation to the urgency of it all became.

The morning wore on like many before it. Louis tried to appreciate the fact that they were walking in relatively warm weather rather than battling the cold. Cross-country became much more difficult when so many days were spent huddled up in the nearest vacant building just to survive.

They passed two parallel poles missing their sign, and beyond it was the beginnings of what appeared to be an industrial strip. Large hulking buildings made of concrete and brick with high fences across wide driveways. The road was lined with trucks, but they’d stopped trying to commandeer every abandoned vehicle they found a long time ago; they were almost always completely drained of fuel.

“About as good as a bonfire without a lighter,” Zayn had once said, his voice tight with the strain of going cold turkey. He still carried an unfinished pack with one cigarette left, afraid to run out completely. 

Louis would sometimes linger on the memory of smoke between his lips, wishing it would mellow him the way the real thing once had. It usually did the opposite.

The frustration at least gave him something to focus on, but he was cut short when Zayn threw out a hand against Louis’ chest.

“Mate, what—”

Zayn shushed him, and Louis batted his hand away.

“What?” he mock-whispered.

“You hear that?” Zayn real-whispered.

Louis paused, focusing on the unnatural stillness he was now accustomed to. There was nothing at first, but then…

“Think those guys had friends?”

Zayn hummed uncertainly, then shook his head. “Think it’s… people.”

It did lack the distinctly disorganised sound zombies made. It had the clear back-and-forth rhythm unique to human communication—something rarely heard these days.

“Come on,” Zayn beckoned, quickening his pace.

“What’s the hurry?” Louis groused.

“Maybe they can help us with that,” Zayn said, pointing at Louis’ leg.

The road began to wind through warehouses, an S shape unfolding as they crossed over the double line running down the middle multiple times, cutting across as straight as they could. A large semitrailer with a white head and two oversized blue trailers was parked around the middle of the S curve.

Just as they circled around it the voices suddenly became much clearer, and Louis’ eyes fell upon three figures knelt in the middle of the road.

Their heads were clustered together like a scrum—one with long tangled curls, one high and swept back, and the other with bright tips that grew dramatically darker at the root.

They didn’t seem to have noticed Louis and Zayn, their voices overlapping and interrupting and growing increasingly frustrated. Louis accidentally kicked a stray bumper lying very separate from the car it had once been attached to, startling the three of them into silence.

The one with the curls and the one with blond tips jumped to their feet, spinning round with wide eyes. The third appeared to be sitting, both hands clasped below his knee. His friends merged to block him from view.

“Hey.” Zayn raised one hand briefly. Louis was quite happy to keep some distance but Zayn walked right up to them, like he would if this were a normal day in a more normal time. He’d never made the decision to stop trusting other survivors like so many had.

“Hello,” the one with sunshine hair said, his voice easy in stark contrast to the expression on his mate’s face. The latter very much reflected what Louis was feeling towards this exchange so far.

“You lads from around here?” Zayn asked.

The two standing side by side exchanged the briefest of glances, a silent commune on how much they should tell. Curls looked Louis up and down; he felt less judged than assessed for whether or not he should be feared.

“Uh.” Blond Tips looked back at the friend he was protectively blocking, then gave an odd sort of sideways nod. “Sorta.”

“You alright back there?” Zayn pointedly asked their hidden friend. When they didn’t answer, he generously offered, “I’m Zayn.”

He stepped forward to extend his hand. Curls stiffened, his stance increasingly defensive, but Blond Tips seemed open to it, lips twisting lightly before he offered his own hand. “Niall. This is Harry and Liam.”

Harry seemed less than thrilled to have his identity revealed, but Liam waved from behind Niall’s legs.

Louis flanked Zayn. Not much point in holding back now. “Louis.”

Niall nodded in greeting.

“Hey, so, you wouldn’t happen to have any, like, medical supplies? Lou’s leg got a little torn up and it’s acting like a bit of a magnet.”

“We do,” Liam said, Harry and Niall parting now that the tension had begun to dissolve. “Back… uh, where we’re holed up. It’s just—”

“Liam,” Harry said in a low voice. Liam patted his leg in reassurance.

“We’re in a little need of medical ourselves at the minute,” he chuckled. His eyes dropped to his leg, where Louis could see the jeans were cut clean in two, revealing a much nastier gash than his own. The very brief bubble of hope that they’d be willing to share their supplies popped.

“Oh, right,” Zayn said, clearly disappointed by the same thought Louis had.

“Hey,” Niall cut in, his tone bizarrely light against the backdrop of everyone’s injuries. He whipped his head towards Liam, eyes wide. “We can get back—with them, we can get back!”

“I don’t think—” Harry began.

“Oh my god, yeah,” Liam nodded, eyes a little droopy but half smiling. Niall turned to Louis and Zayn hopefully.

Louis blinked. “Uh, what?”

“We were kinda stuck,” Niall said, stepping forward. “Couldn’t watch our own backs with the both of us needing to support Liam. But if you two come along you can play defence and we’ll lead the way.”

Zayn turned to Louis with an unaffected shrug; Louis felt he should have some kind of rebuttal, but came up dry. He was wary to jump right in with a group of strangers, but, like Zayn, could see that they needed the aid. An unpractised voice deep in the recesses of his mind stirred at the chance for human interaction, a circumstance he would’ve craved once.

“Sure,” Louis conceded, and Niall clapped once.

“Alright, okay, so you guys got weapons?”

“You aren’t gonna believe the weapons we’ve got,” Louis smirked, and Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Right, okay. Harry?”

Harry remained apprehensively quiet, but helped Liam to his feet. His leg was still visibly bleeding so Niall undid his belt and fastened it below Liam’s knee. Liam winced, eyes shuttering for just a second, but he relaxed his face when Niall stood back up.

“Lou?” Zayn nudged his head.

“Uh.” He circled to the front of their newly formed group. “You guys’ll direct me, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, just start following the road, I’ll tell you where to go,” Niall nodded, jaw tight as he positioned himself beneath one of Liam’s arms. Harry was beneath the other, the three of them ready to enter a three-man four-legged race.

When Zayn unsheathed his _talwar_ Harry gaped, Niall swore triumphantly and Liam shouted, “Sick!”

Zayn gave a lopsided smile, looking more than a little impressed with himself.

It was fairly slow going. Louis envisioned himself taking sharp corners, pistol at the ready—a veritable point man charged with leading them to safety. In reality, he took a few steps and waited twice as long for the rest to catch up. They walked for what felt like well over an hour; the industrial road continued to wind, but Louis cut as straight a path as possible.

Just when Louis couldn’t stand the sight of another semi-trailer, Niall directed him off the road and into a driveway between two gnarled, steel gates. They passed the first large building, pushing aside a pair of dusty bins to reveal a narrow side passage.

Louis made sure the coast was clear on the other end, then waited for Niall, Harry and Liam to shuffle through sideways, a meticulous process of instructing whose foot needed to move when. Louis could see Zayn idly twirling his blade behind them.

On the other side was an enormous concrete courtyard, and then a line of four smaller (but still sizeable) warehouses, red brick with flat tin rooves and steel roller doors. Niall pointed Louis toward the furthest one.

There was a door, also made of steel, on the side, and Niall pulled a key from his pocket, handing it to Louis.

“You got a key to a warehouse?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he wiggled it in the lock. It took a bit of muscle before a satisfying shift gave way to a darkened passage.

“Place was unlocked when we first got here,” Niall huffed, helping Liam inside while Louis held the door. “Found it in the office. Must’ve been a spare. Can you get the light?”

There wasn’t a switch in sight, but he did spot a gas lantern sitting on the entry table.

“Are we entering the hull of a ship?” Louis asked, turning a knob at the base of the lantern. It prompted a warm glow that faintly lit the hallway. When Zayn let the door fall shut behind them, it was the only light left.

Niall didn’t answer, on account of breathing quite heavily from half carrying Liam all this way. Louis led them down the hall, unsure of where exactly he was going or where they would end up, and eventually the darkness opened up into a space just barely filled by the lantern’s subpar glow.

It appeared to be a lived-in space with a couch and a coffee table and filing cabinets covering a great portion of the walls. Louis wasn’t sure how high the ceiling went, darkness stretching up above them, but it had the strange metallic smell of industrial buildings, and stagnant air. He didn’t imagine there was a window worth cracking in this place.

Niall and Harry gently lowered Liam onto the couch, then Harry disappeared through one of the doors lining the walls.

Zayn’s eyes washed over the space. “How long you all been here?”

“A while,” Niall said, crouched down in front of Liam and undoing his belt. They rolled what was left of Liam’s jeans above the knee as Harry returned with a little cardboard box in one hand, a cup of water in the other, and a second lamp slung over one wrist.

“That’s your first aid kit?” Louis asked, although he was more interested in the water.

“Better than nothing.” Harry pulled out a roll of gauze and a fairly grubby-looking sponge.

Louis invited himself to do a little loop of the room, only stopping to deposit the lantern on the table when Niall asked him to hold the light still. He wanted a peek inside the cabinets but held himself back. The surrounding rooms were all dark, but he could make out some of the contents. One was full of racks and racks of shelves. Another led into a second hall that Louis wasn’t game to go down, and the last had a bench running along one wall with more shelves on the other side.  

Liam hissed behind him, fist a tight ball at his side as Harry dabbed at the wound.

“We’ll help you with that in a mo’,” Niall said, pointing at Louis’ leg. Louis had all but forgotten about it.

“Think it’s alright, to be honest,” he mused.

“It’s gotta be cleaned,” Zayn said, eyes hard. Louis didn’t know if he was thinking about the possible infections that could come of it, or the fact that Louis was a walking magnet for anything rotting in the general vicinity. Either way, Louis didn’t fight him on it.

Soon enough Liam’s leg was well-wrapped and Niall ushered him over.

Louis dropped onto the free end of the couch, gingerly pulling at the ankle of his jeans. He could feel it catch where the blood had dried against the fabric.

“Here.” Zayn batted Louis’ hands away and knelt at his feet. He rolled the cuff of Louis’ jeans to expose a graze stretched most of the way up his calf. Louis hissed as some of the scabbing tore. Zayn whispered, “sorry, sorry,” gripping his leg to smother the pain.

Harry had left and returned with a fresh cup of water and wrung-out sponge. He tapped lightly at Zayn’s shoulder, who accepted them both with thanks. Louis noticed the bob in his throat before he dampened the sponge.

Zayn had always had gentle hands. Louis had worried once that they wouldn’t be able to do what was needed when the world changed. But they were quick, they were deft. They were more than capable.

“Any chance I could get one of those for me?” Louis asked Harry, pointing at the sullied cup of water. Harry gave a sharp nod and disappeared once more.

“What were you lads doing out there?” Louis asked while Zayn continued meticulously bandaging his leg.

Niall kicked back in a chair against the far wall. “Looking for food, what else?” He wiped an arm across his forehead, catching a few hairs in the sweat above his brow. “Cut short by the lot that got Liam’s leg, though.”

“Think we ran into the same bunch this morning,” Zayn said, gauze between his teeth as he secured Louis’ wrapping.

Liam groaned, a hand to his forehead. “Told you we should’ve taken ‘em out.”

“How were we supposed to do that with you bleeding out?” Harry scoffed, but there was an amused tilt to his eyes. “We’re lucky we managed to get rid of ‘em at all.”

“Yeah, how’d you do that, anyway? I’ve never seen a zombie turn away from fresh blood,” Louis said.

“Wasn’t sure myself, to be honest,” Niall scratched at his chin. “Makes sense now, though, if they could smell you. Could’ve figured it’d be more worth their time to go for a meal that wasn’t fighting back.”

“Can they do that? Think?” Louis asked.

“Don’t really know.” Liam’s face twisted in deep thought.  “Either way, you probably saved me from certain death.”

“Glad to be of service,” Louis tipped his drink towards him before draining it. His throat was so parched it felt as if the water was completely absorbed before it even hit his stomach.

“Oh, I mean, sorry you got hurt, like?”

“This wasn’t from them,” Zayn said, patting Louis’ leg with a sense of completion. Louis lightly kicked out at him, getting Zayn’s elbow.

 “Still. Anyways, had a bit of success before Liam went down.” Niall slung a satchel from his shoulder and upended it onto the table. Cans clattered out, rolling haphazardly as he tried to contain them in the circle of his arms. One escaped, landing at Harry’s feet.

“More beans!” he cheered in a tone Louis found difficult to identify. There was an equal chance he was being completely genuine as there was he’d prefer never to see another bean again.

Louis’ stomach stirred at the sight of something edible, and from the twitch in Zayn’s jaw he felt it too. They both kept their heads down as Zayn tied off the end of Louis’ bandage, rolling down Louis’ jean leg. It was tight over the bandage but he felt okay on his feet.

“Well, thanks for the medical assistance, lads.”

“Wait, you’re going?” Niall leant forward, and another can landed with a heavy thud.

Louis and Zayn exchanged looks.

“Uh, well, we—”

“At least stay for a meal, we can spare a can or two.”

“Even after your supply run was cut short?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Imagine we’ve got more than you,” Niall eyed the backpacks at their feet.

“Stay the night even,” Liam offered from the couch. “We’ve got spare rooms. As thanks for helping us out.”

It had been a long time since it’d been anything more than just Louis and Zayn. Merely crossing paths with someone was a rarity, let alone sharing their time. Even this, sitting in this semi-social space, felt unnatural.

Louis still felt the instinct of flight, to leave any place they landed as quickly as they could. But it was just that, an instinct, and not a reflection on where he stood—debatably the safest place they’d been in months. They didn’t know these boys, but Louis thought of sleeping huddled up behind an exposed bus shelter and his body sagged at the idea of getting to sleep within four walls and a ceiling. He looked at Zayn, hoping to silently convey this, and saw recognition in his eyes.

“If it’s alright with all of you,” Zayn shrugged in that deliberately effortless way.

“‘Course,” Liam grinned, standing with a brief wobble. “Take a seat, dinner’s on us.”

The very last thing Louis had expected that morning was to find himself in the company of three strangers in an abandoned warehouse arguing over warmed pinto beans. They’d gotten a little fire going in a shallow metal bucket and heated the cans before handing them around; it had been so long since Louis had eaten anything warm he’d worried his tongue would burn. Instead, he’d felt himself light up from the inside, warmth spreading from his stomach to his limbs, making him drowsy and content.

Harry handed spoons to each of them.

“Well isn’t this civilised,” Louis admired. Normally they made do with fingers.

He faded in an out of the conversation, content to sit back on a forgivably sunken couch and doze. He felt himself tense when Zayn offered some of their history; they’d lived so much of it together, it’d been such a long time since they’d needed to share, that it felt a little weird hearing it spoken out loud. Zayn kept it brief and fairly superficial, for which he was grateful. Regrettably he woke from a nap to find he’d missed Niall share some of their own.

The lamp light made him drowsy, like the fade out before a movie starts, dimming the world and enticing him into sleep. He was a little relieved when yawns started to circle the group.

“I’ll show you guys your rooms,” Harry offered, leading them down the hall Louis had avoided earlier.

The hall was longer than it looked, lined with doors. Most of them were closed; the first few they passed were open and Louis only caught the briefest glimpse from the passing lamp, but he guessed they were likely makeshift bedrooms.

Harry turned the first unopened door, the handle making an irate noise at being disturbed after so long. It looked like an unused office with a desk and empty shelves against the far wall. Harry put the lamp down and began assembling a stack of flattened cardboard boxes in a pile on the floor.

“It’s not five star but it’s not so bad if you’ve forgotten what a real bed feels like,” he grunted, shifting them into a somewhat equal pile like a faux mattress.

“It’ll do us fine, thank you,” Zayn said. Louis could relate to the anticipation in his voice.

 “One of you can stay here, and there’s another room just down the hall—”

“That’s okay,” Louis said quickly. “We’re—this is good for us.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked. He looked very quickly from Zayn to Louis and back to Zayn, and then nodded. “Cool, well, sleep well.”

He offered the lamp to Zayn, who accepted it with thanks, and left.

Louis dropped his backpack in the corner before feeling out their makeshift bed. Zayn pushed the door mostly closed as he crawled under the fire blanket. It was a little rough to the skin but very insulating—it definitely beat a bus shelter on the side of the road. He shed himself of his jacket and rolled it up to tuck beneath his head.

Zayn pulled the blanket up over their shoulders and they shuffled closer, knees brushing at a familiar angle. Louis ran a hand down Zayn’s chest, stopping just shy of his belly button, and nudged his chin forward so he could feel his way along Zayn’s jaw. Zayn kissed his cheek and then his lips, a few light quick presses, before his hand found Louis’ side. His fingers were already so warm beneath the blanket.

Louis felt unexpectedly enclosed and safe here, more so than he’d felt in quite a long time. He could feel some of the muscles in his body unspooling, releasing tension he’d held so long he didn’t even notice it anymore. It gave him the energy to press his mouth more firmly to Zayn’s, resting a hand at the nape of his neck to tangle idly with his hair. Zayn kissed him back eagerly, a balance of desire and restraint Louis had learnt to recognise under his fingertips, welcoming whatever Louis felt in that moment.

It stretched out for a few minutes more, until Louis’ lips eventually trailed up Zayn’s cheek and he gave one final brush at his temple before lowering his head. Zayn’s breath washed over his forehead, his hands working their way back from where they’d been lightly pulling Louis closer. Louis twisted around until Zayn could shuffle up behind him, arms going around his waist.

“Night.”

“Mm, night.”

***

Louis had learnt very quickly how to transition from asleep to alert in an instant. It was a survival tactic his body had recognised as Darwinian in its importance. 

On this particular morning, waking so completely left Louis with an odd absence of stimuli. The room was windowless and very dark; there was no sense of atmosphere, of the world around him.

There was also no Zayn.

His hand flip-flopped across the slab of cardboard behind him like a fish caught on shore. It was empty but still a little warm. The blanket had been tucked behind his back very deliberately, pulling tight when Louis rolled over.

Louis had never been one for his own company. Growing up, he’d relished the easy worship of his siblings and enjoyed a crowd at school, always been one for a big friend group. That had been more of a lifestyle preference; now, being alone stirred inklings of fear low in his gut. Even if it was only for a moment, just a quick run behind a bush for the sake of modesty, there was the ever-present dread that it would become permanent. Louis wasn’t fond of letting Zayn out of his sight.

That feeling stirred now, ushering Louis to his feet. The lamp was still by the door, and there was a light coming in from the hall. Just for a second, Louis saw himself walking out into an empty warehouse—no Zayn, no anybody. It quickened his steps.

As the common sense lingering at the back of his mind expected, Louis saw Zayn sitting on the couch in the common area. He was talking, voice indiscernible at a distance.

A few more steps revealed Harry sitting in a chair he’d pulled halfway across the room, foot propped up on the couch. He was slumped down, a triangle of space between his back and the chair, blinking lazily. He seemed profoundly relaxed—a markedly different vibe from the previous day. When Louis looked back at Zayn, he was smiling easily as well. His posture was loose, so unlike the way Louis had watch him carry himself these last few months.

They both noticed Louis at the same time, two heads turning to see him step blearily into the room. Three sky lights ran diagonally along the high ceiling, bathing the room in morning light, and Louis rubbed at his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, walking towards the couch.

“Hey,” Zayn answered at the same time Harry waved, “Morning,” with one hand.

Harry shifted his leg further along the couch so Louis could drop down beside Zayn, landing between the two cushions. He tipped towards Zayn’s weight, their arms pressed together.

“How’d you sleep?” Harry asked.

Louis’ lips tilted gratefully. “No imminent threat of zombies, so as good as can be.”

Harry grinned, getting to his feet. “That’s about all we can hope for. Up for some breakfast?”

“What’s on the menu?” Louis called as Harry disappeared into the storeroom.

“We’ve got black beans, kidney beans, or pinto beans,” Harry shouted back.

“Mmm, spoiled for choice,” Louis smiled at Zayn.

“Two orders of kidney beans, please,” Zayn shouted back.

Harry returned with three cans balanced beneath his chin. Zayn and Louis accepted theirs with thanks, peeling them back and scooping them out with more spoons. Louis wasn’t sure what precisely had lifted Harry’s mood since last night. Perhaps the mere fact that Louis and Zayn hadn’t killed or ransacked them in their sleep. Either way, it was a relief to feel more at ease under his gaze.

By the time Niall and Liam were up, Harry was practically pushing Niall out the door to scout for more food.

Liam, with a slight limp to his injured leg, elected to stay behind. Although they hadn’t said anything, Louis suspected this was a relief to all their hosts, so they weren’t leaving a couple of strangers with their existing stash of food—limited as it may be.

But Liam didn’t show any signs of distrust, just reclined with a wink when Harry and Niall disappeared out the door. “Finally got a chance to put my feet up. You two look like you could use a day off as well.”

“Definitely not opposed, to be honest,” Zayn agreed. He looked very well moulded into the couch, slumped like he had no intention of moving. Louis was stretched across the opposite end.

“Where you guys headed, anyway?” Liam asked.

“Um, we were headed north.” Zayn glanced idly at Louis, who averted his eyes. “Just, uh, our families are up that way. Were.”

Something shuttered in Liam’s eyes, something Louis recognised, and he nodded.

“Been… moving slower lately, though,” Louis admitted carefully. Zayn’s eyes grew unfocused, and Liam just kept nodding. Louis cleared his throat, straightening. “You lot must’ve had a good run finding food if you’ve been here a while.”

Liam’s eyes brightened slightly. “Yeah, it’s not been too rough, considering the state of the world,” he chuckled. “Ran out of canned tomatoes a few days ago, though. They’re the real winner, you can do just about anything and it’ll taste good with a can of tomatoes involved.”

“God, I haven’t had tomato in…” Zayn shook his head. “Dunno how long.”

“Found a few with garlic and basil mixed in a few weeks ago,” Liam said. Zayn groaned. “Didn’t last the day, but they were well worth it.”

“God.” Zayn dropped his head back against the couch.

“Harry’s said he wants to start a little garden, maybe grow some of our own stuff.”

“Is that wise? What with zombies being led about by their noses.”

“Don’t really respond to food though, do they? Only us.”

Louis frowned thoughtfully.

“Where would you even put it? This whole place is paved,” Zayn said.

“Haven’t really thought about the practicality of it, to be honest,” Liam shrugged. “Just a thought. He thinks it’d give us longevity here. Eventually we’re gonna run out of places to search for food, but we’re not keen on heading further out there. It’s been safe here so far.”

Louis imagined it, a lush garden bed running along the side of the warehouse filled with greens, vegetables, all sorts of fresh things he hadn’t eaten for months because they don’t come in a can. The thought itself felt so unattainable it was exhausting. He didn’t know how Harry had the energy for it.

He twisted his mouth, but Zayn said, “Sounds sick.”

“Obviously wouldn’t know the first place to start but,” Liam shrugged again.

Louis kept quiet.

Liam seemed more than content to let them peruse the storerooms. Now that it was light out, Louis and Zayn were keen to have a proper look around. They went to investigate what was available for lunch and returned to find Liam dozing in his chair.

There was an uncomfortable energy running beneath Louis’ skin with so little to do. He and Zayn had certainly had their slow days, but even then they existed on a backdrop of potential imminent danger. Vigilance felt like a waste of energy here, and yet he couldn’t quite allow himself to let go as much as Zayn seemed to manage.

He was lying back on the couch, chatting to Liam or peacefully reclined in his own drowsy state. His innate affinity for silence was the one part of Zayn’s personality Louis could never connect to. Exhaustion was the only thing that allowed Louis to sync up in that way.

The bouts of silence only lasted until Niall and Harry came crashing back through the front door, hollering their success before they were even in view.

Liam was roused from his most recent cat nap as Niall shook a very weighted backpack in his face.

They found a large can that had long since lost its label and filled it with tomato soup, mushrooms and peas. They didn’t think about conserving their stocks because, as Niall cried, “We’ve got guests!”

It smelled unreal, suspended and bubbling above the fire, and even better when it was distributed between the empty cans they all held in their eager hands.

A few minutes of appreciative slurping went by before Niall said, “Don’t have to be guests, you know.”

Louis looked up, spoon halfway to his mouth, and Niall’s eyes dropped back to his soup. He very attentively scraped at the bottom of his can, face notably warmer, even by the dim light.

Liam and Harry exchanged looks somewhere in his peripheral vision, and just beyond it Louis could feel Zayn’s eyes on him. Rather than turn to meet them, Louis swallowed another mouthful.

When Louis lay atop his cardboard bed again that night, the familiarity itself was unfamiliar. He stretched far enough to feel his stomach protest. He’d forgotten how it felt to be legitimately full.

Zayn adjusted the blanket, stretching it over Louis’ toes, after which he wriggled his feet free. Zayn tucked the blanket more snugly around his legs, but Louis kicked his leg out so his toes were peeking out.

“Have cold feet then!” Zayn huffed, and Louis laughed. He curled a hand around Zayn’s arm when he settled.

It was so still, arguably peaceful, even with the buzz of the other boys slowly retiring outside. Zayn’s hand crept over to cover Louis’, warm as always.

“So…” Zayn began. Louis waited so long he wondered if Zayn had fallen asleep.

Louis turned onto his side, eying Zayn’s sharp profile. He could see the flutter of his lashes when he blinked. “So?”

“So, like, what did you think about what Niall said?”

“What did Niall say?”

Louis knew, and he was sure Zayn knew that he knew. But this was how they did everything, talking in circles until it spiralled inwards to the point.

Tonight, Zayn cut right to the centre. “What are we even doing, Lou?”

A hinge burst on a closed-off part of Louis’ heart he kept on tight lockdown. It was a question they’d been avoiding for months, asked only to themselves and never out loud. Louis should’ve known Zayn would be the one to get there first.

“What we’ve always done,” Louis said, because it was true.

Zayn’s face tipped toward him. “And what’s that?”

“Surviving.”

Zayn sighed, looking away. Louis felt slightly less pressure without Zayn’s eyes directly on him.

“I think we need to find a new way to survive.”

“Don’t need to fix what ain’t broke,” Louis said out of pure argumentative reflex. The pressure on that remaining hinge increased; his fingers tightened on Zayn’s arm.

Silence fell between them again, long enough that Louis began to feel guilty for offering nothing back when Zayn was saying something so clearly difficult.

“It’s been… so long,” Zayn said, and Louis felt the final hinge shatter at the tightness in his voice. “I’m so tired of walking. We don’t even know if they’re there anymore.”

 _We don’t know they’re not._ It was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back, for Zayn’s sake. And maybe for his own. He didn’t want a fight.

“Don’t really know anything,” he muttered instead, nose tucked towards Zayn’s shoulder.

“Exactly. Maybe… I dunno. Maybe we should just, like, think about what Niall said?”

Louis hummed dubiously. “Guess it’s been a while. Since it was more than just you and me.”

“Might need more than you and me to stay alive eventually, been a few close calls lately. Survival in numbers, isn’t it?”

Louis leant his temple against Zayn’s shoulder.

“They’ve got so much food,” Zayn whispered, and Louis laughed.

“Not had a meal like that in a while,” he agreed.

“Could have many more with Harry’s garden.” Zayn wiggled his shoulder, rocking Louis’ head lightly. He smiled.

“I dunno, Zayn. Is it even, like, realistic?”

“Don’t think our chances are any worse here than somewhere else.” He curled towards Louis, one hand coming to rest on his other shoulder as he pressed a kiss to his head. “Maybe we could just see, yeah? Doesn’t have to be permanent, but… could be nice. Just existing for a while? Living, even.”

There was a question of hope in Zayn’s voice. It was the same voice he’d used when they were young and on the cusp of possibility. Of starting a new school year or moving into a new house—when there was the chance, however uncertain, that things were about to get better.

“They’re not bad lads,” Louis granted. He could feel Zayn’s smile in the way he squeezed Louis a little tighter.

“High praise.”

“It’s all still very new! Could upgrade them to ‘decent’ in a few weeks.”

“Few weeks, huh? Sounds promising.”

Louis rolled onto his back, resting one hand on his stomach and one on Zayn’s wrist.

“Existing,” he mused. “Worth a shot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it please [share the post](http://dearmrsawyer.tumblr.com/post/173938138289)!


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